Witch Blood 12
The world formed out of fuzzy confusion. Rhea's chest heaved and she found her fists crossed in front of her eyes. She recalled a dream of gruff witch hunters holding her under water and then sticking a thin reed into her lips to breathe through. The faint trickle of life giving air would keep her alive but she could not fight back ... and she knew it was a metaphor. Pushing sweat back from her face did not improve her outlook but it rubbed sleep-soot out of her eyes and brought fresh blood to the surface. Her waking routine began with a trip to the privy followed closely by dragging out her bathing supplies. The small bedroom she was living in only had a few things in it to mark it as hers and she checked on one of those things carefully. Tiny seeds were sprouting nicely but they were at a state where they needed little attention. Soon they would be planted out near the stable's fence where they could climb and then bloom under moonlight. Another metaphor, she thought as she pushed open the window and stared longingly at the setting sun. Being a witch may have qualified her as a woman of the night to some but she did not agree. Early morning had always been her private time to set out into the world and now it marked an ending. Day and night had traded roles and the women of the brothel would be waking shortly. A lesson from Baba Ginger played in her head ... something about a person needing sunshine just like a plant, but she could not remember why. All she was certain of was that her skin was pale and her head was aching with strain. Maybe I should stay up until noon or wake before sunset. Maybe I should climb onto the roof, strip naked, and bathe in pure sunlight. I'm so tired ... always tired. The scrub brush worked feeling back into her muscles and the water made her feel human again. It was not a hair washing day so she tied it up before settling into the tub and she sighed as the heat pieced through her gloom. "Oh! Uhm ... hi Rhea." "Annabelle," she replied without opening her eyes. "Oh, please don't call me that," the young woman pouted. Rhea smiled but she still did not look. She had seen her friend's face enough times to know its shape by now. "You smell like the stables," Rhea teased. "Yes," Annabelle said dryly, "that's why I'm here." "Uh-huh," Rhea muttered. There was more to her snark but it faded in the bliss of the tub. She heard her friend rattle around the room and the hiss of water filled a bucket. Bristles began scraping over milky skin and the scent of fresh compost mixed with sweat and something musky. Rhea's eyes blinked open. "Oh ... gods." She lifted her head and looked at Annabelle. There were marks on her skin and her fingers were cleaning moving between her legs in a private cleaning ritual. "Anna! Did you find yourself a stable boy?" "Wha- no!" The reaction was so abrupt that it could only be a lie. Rhea flung back her head and laughed so hard that she had to curl up into a ball. Twisting herself to face Anna let her see a body blush no amount of suds could cover. "Sooo ... he's a stable man, eh?" Rhea continued teasing. "Come on, Anna. Details!" Anna's head twitched and she peaked over at her friend. "Promise you won't laugh?" "I'll promise not to make fun of you," Rhea told her honestly, "but if I'm really happy for you then I'm going to laugh. It's not mean laughter ... but it'll be there." "Oh ... alright." Anna wrinkled her nose and then returned to her cleaning. "He's ... uhm ..." "Yes?" Rhea prodded as she leaned forward over the edge of the tub. "He's ... just my type." The silence that followed built in Rhea's chest like steam in a teakettle. Then her inner smart-ass began to whistle. "Sooo ... he's built like a tree and has one of those names that's a grunt and a feat like, Trog-the-Bull-Rider or Uhg-the-Destroyer?" She held it together for three more seconds before bursting into laughter that sent her bubbling to the bottom of the tub. When she surfaced she wiped water away and then saw Anna rinsing herself off and covering a mark on her arm. "Ooor ... Biter-the-Woman-Eater?" "Oh, hush!" Anna huffed. "Not until you tell me," Rhea singsonged. "Alright," Anna said with a sigh. "His name does mean mountain ... or at least the hills where the dead are buried." "Aaand ... you let him ... bury the dead in the middle of the day when we're all asleep but the rest of the world is not?" Rhea felt herself bouncing. Anna winced and looked up at her. "Yeah, I know, I was stretching to make that one work. But stop stalling ... details." "Well," Anna hedged and then shook her head. "I don't really want to-" "Ooohhh no you don't," Rhea told her in a stern tone that was much too amused to be angry. "I've been trying to find out who's been plowing your field for weeks! This hound has finally found the vixen and the only way you're escaping is to tell me your dirty secrets!" "Ugh ... fine," Anna scowled with disgust. "His name is Beorgas." "A foreigner?" Rhea asked as a suspicion crept into her spine. Anna nodded. "From the north?" Another nod. "Across the sea?" "Don't ... tell anyone," Anna told her with a wide-eyed look that went from embarrassment to fear. "They wouldn't understand!" "I'm not sure I understand," Rhea admitted in a sober tone. "It doesn't give me the right to ruin your happiness, but please, be careful." "I will," Anna said as her shoulders slouched in relief. "Now then," Rhea declared as she shifted to one side to make room, "come in here and tell me all about it." Anna hesitated but a look from her friend caused her to give in. Once she was settled comfortably, she looked down and gave a little blush. Rhea admired Anna's body and breasts much more openly than before and it placated her for several wondrous moments before she continued making demands. "Well?" "Uhm ... well ... what do ... you want to know?" "Is he built like an oak with a cock like some cellar wrecking root system?" "Rhee-yah!" Anna shrieked as her friend giggled. "Gods! You've taken to Callie's sense of humor like a fish to a stream!" "Well, she has been my mentor for almost a month," Rhea reminded her. "Haven't the others been teaching you too?" Anna asked as she tilted her head to one side. "Yeah ... sort of," Rhea admitted as she stretched and leaned back. "Belinda and Fayre are way too intense for my taste and Mabel gets all of the super emotional clients. They're either wanna-be conquerors or men who really wish they were fathers. So they're either scary-aggressive or eternally sad, without much in-between." "Does that mean your empathy is returning?" Anna asked as her caregiving expression began to take over. "A little bit," Rhea admitted with a nod. "My brand is more like a tea-filter than a pile of rubble and I think my senses are adjusting to the quieter flow of the stream." "I see," Anna said as she gave a thoughtful nod. "I like your tea-filter analogy. We can move the energy through but we can't push too hard or we spill all over and spilling burns us." "Yeah, kind of like that!" "So, what about Opal and Kenna's lessons?" Anna continued. "Are they any good for you?" "Opal's good." There was a pause before Rhea could confess her next words. "She ... kind of ... pisses me off, though." "Jealous?" Anna asked with a smirk. "Have you heard her talk about her clients?" There was a pause as they stared at each other. "She's a little ... harsh." "Well," Anna began and then she lingered a little too long before beginning again, "we don't have clients like she does. I'm sure your opinions will change when it happens." "Yeah," Rhea nodded as she leaned back and thought about it. "I wonder when that'll happen." Anna stared to talk and then stopped. A knowing hesitation was in her eyes and it would take work to get her to spill. "Don't do it, Anna. I can see you holding out on me." "It's not really my place to talk about my mother's business," she stated evasively. "So ... no help for a fellow witch?" Rhea turned it into a questioning tone that caused her friend to look ashamed. The water pipes rattled as other occupants began their nightly preparations. Footsteps moved up and down the hall until one particular set crashed closer and flung the door open. "Hellooooo my sexy darlings!" Callie shouted and the tension broke into uncomfortable laughter. "Uh-oh. Something's brewing. What's up?" "Oh, well-" Anna started but Rhea interrupted her. "I'm training with Kenna tonight," she said darkly, and Callie's face fell a bit. "Oh, well ... yeah," she took a breath and huffed it out. "It'll be okay. Kenna's scary but she knows a lot. Just be careful about her art. Once she gets talking ... well. She can get a bit philosophical." "The art and philosophy of sex-craft?" Rhea asked with an amused smirk. "Hey, you've been warned," Callie told her. "Kenna will flay your hide and eat you alive if you annoy her so just be polite and attentive." "What did she do to you?" Rhea asked suspiciously, and Callie shivered. "You don't want to know."
"Have you ever touched a penis?" Kenna asked the question with the cold intensity which she did most things. Rhea found herself flinching at the woman's domineering manner but she was certain it was mostly because they were standing in a candlelit room that resembled a torture chamber. There were strange metal contraptions with straps and shelves covered in devices that the young witch could only guess at. Right ... it has nothing to do with what we're wearing. I'm sure that if we took all of the cloth from both of our outfits and wove it into one garment ... the tailor might be able to get one whole shirt out of it. Rhea bit back her discomfort and ran her thumb along the material to free it from her cheeks. Then she faced the other woman with all of the courage she could muster. "Only one," she admitted, "but I did a lot of things with it. I'm not a virgin, you know." "Are you not a virgin ... everywhere?" the leather-clad woman asked with a furrowed brow that caused Rhea to buckle under the hidden meanings. Kenna began running skilled hands along the slender curves of her muscular body. A hypnotic heat filled the room like a ritual, drawing all eyes and leaving the faculties muddy. Rhea realized she was gawking and wrestled for control of herself. "Do not avert your eyes," Kenna ordered, and Rhea reacted as if stung. A graceful hand took up a ridding crop and caught the younger woman a blow along her bare ribs. The gasp of shock became one of confused pleasure as the sensation tingled its way along one side. "I am the mistress of this lesson, little servant. Do you understand me?" Rhea hesitated and Kenna leaned forward, her voice pitched low and breathy. "I want to hear you say it." "Y-yeah," she stuttered. "Yes, Mistress," Kenna corrected her. "Yes ... Mistress," Rhea repeated and she began to wonder what type of magic this woman wielded that controlled people so efficiently. A wicked little smirk appeared at the corner of the perfect mouth. Goosebumps rushed across Rhea's skin as the leather of the ridding crop began to trace a line across exposed flesh, moving from side, to stomach, to just below her navel. "Are you not a virgin ... here?" "Y-yes, Mistress," Rhea barely answered. Her heart was racing as Kenna circled around behind her. Both hands slid up naked arms and then came up to cup full breasts, the riding crop tucked was tucked under them but she barely noticed. "Are you not a virgin ... here?" "Yeh ... yes ... mistress!" A moan slipped out as warm breath touched her neck. She's so close ... doing so much ... why is my body reacting like this? Velvet fingers slid lower and the tips of savage nails raked lightly down exposed flanks. Then Rhea felt her bottom being cupped. "What about here?" Kenna asked softly. "Did your lover penetrate you here?" "W-what?" Confusion caused the spell to lose its power and the intruding hands drew back. Kenna circled around to stand in front of Rhea once more and she gestured to her own sex with the ridding crop. "If a man enters your body here and comes to completion, then you have accomplished what any healthy woman can do." She slid the tip of the leather a little farther back until it was positioned at her bottom. "If the man enters here, it is just as likely that he will come to completion, though it takes training and preparation for you to enjoy it." Rhea's already excited body had no trouble recalling Lyle's weight on her back and his teeth on the nape of her neck. But the thought of him entering her from that place did not sound pleasant. "Any moist opening can bring a man to completion," Kenna explained, "but there are other ways that require skill and artistry. The easiest ways are always the most dangerous to you. When the seed of a man enters your body, you make yourself vulnerable to pregnancy, disease, and the poisons of another's soul. Every man carries the burdens of life within him and his seed is an expression of those burdens. If it gets into you ... then you will carry a measure of those burdens." Rhea tried to think of something to say but the whole experience, both the conversation and the pressing of physical boundaries, was too much for her to grasp yet. "Painters and poets release their frustrations into their art," Kenna continued, "but most men cannot find release without the intervention of another. That is where we come in. We are wielders of forbidden pleasures. It takes training and practice to achieve ... but it is worth it." Kenna brandished the ridding crop and Rhea watched it with morbid fascination. When it landed on her ribs, the sting elicited another gasp of pleasant shock. "Each person has their own weaknesses." The leather began to trace lines of sensation as its wielder circled. "Each person has places of pleasure and pain that are different from others. Some people like to be beaten and others abhor such an idea." The leather tip of the ridding crop touched Rhea's back, her shoulder, slid softly over her collar bone, and settled under her chin. "Did you ever ... taste him?" "Y-yeah," she admitted. "And did you like the taste of his seed?" "No!" Rhea neatly shouted but then she settled a bit. "No, it was all ... I ... I just didn't like it." "Pity," Kenna shrugged as she stepped back, breaking the physical contact. "It is more difficult if you dislike the taste." "How difficult?" Rhea asked as her tutor as the woman moved to a table of toys and picked up a length of polished glass. Several pieces of leather attached it to a small harness that could be worn around the waist. "Nothing a little training cannot handle," the serious woman said with a languid grace. She held the phallic glass before her like a holy relic and her expression lost its playfulness. "This, is what makes a man weak. Kingdoms have fallen because of this little beast. Wars have been fought and scores of men have killed each other due to the passions contained in their blood. When a man does not release his passion, it builds." Kenna curled the fingers of one hand and began to slide the cylinder forward and back. "When the pressure is too great, the man explodes. Some men explode into violence, others explode into art, and others ..." Her fingers quickened over the glass and Rhea felt her pulse gallop more quickly at the sight of it. Moisture began to gather at her core and her breath came in short excited bursts. Eventually Kenna stopped and Rhea became suddenly aware of her reactions. Their eyes met and Rhea could see the dark amusement in the other woman. "The man who comes here cums to completion in our hands, looses his lust, and then returns to his normal life. Do you understand?" Rhea let out her breath and paused before speaking. "Wait ... are you telling me that men will freak out and kill each other if we don't have sex with them?" "Many of them will," Kenna told her. "Some are better at containing themselves than others ... but all require release." "No," Rhea shook her head and she let out a little laugh. I've made jokes about it but there's no way ... "Men aren't that monstrous! Maybe some of them are like that but men aren't ... they aren't all-" She lost the ability to continue when she looked back into Kenna's eyes. The ferocity that raged within those pools of inky darkness suddenly terrified her and Rhea was suddenly uncertain of everything. "We are the harbingers of desire," Kenna growled. "Men must loose their seed or be consumed by rage. The church tells them it is a sin to do this on their own so they search for a mate. The church then tells them it is a sin to have sex outside of the creation of children. The church then tells them they are not to enjoy such an act." Kenna took a deep breath and then regained control of her anger. "Have you ever noticed how zealots are so full of anger? Celibacy is an unnatural thing that causes holy men to abuse their flocks, molest children, and murder people who displease them. It is our job to harness these passions and give them release. Bring a man to completion and his anger falls flaccid. Then he can return to his life, do as he wills yet harm none." Rhea tried to picture Lyle and the way restraint he always showed around her. Was he burning alive with lust? Would he have hurt me if I had denied him? No ... not Lyle. Then something else drew her attention. Do as he wills yet harm none. There was ritual to the words, and they touched memories in Rhea's mind. She's a witch ... and she's obsessed with power. Power through sex. I wonder ... "Kenna, were you raped?" Rhea suddenly realized she had spoken her thoughts. It was not a delicate question but the words were out and so she would need to own them. "No," Kenna told her firmly. "I have never been raped." "Oh, I'm sorry," Rhea blurted awkwardly. "You just seemed-" "Obsessed?" Kenna asked, and her posture seemed to relax a bit. "I am not a victim, Rhea, but I am not blind. Sex is about power. Two people who are in love will share their power with each other. You trust your partner and your partner trusts you. You trade the power back and forth. You give him control and then he gives it back. Each time you give up control you reinforce your trust. It is a beautiful thing." Rhea remembered giving control to Lyle. There was so much power in his body and she could tell part of him was always holding back. He gave me control and then I gave him control. We both wanted the best for the other and we could tell when we made love. That's why I trusted him ... no, I still trust him. That's why he sent me away. "Have you ever loved a man like that?" Rhea asked. "Not like you have," Kenna admitted, "but I enjoy their company." There was a pause as the tutor returned her equipment to their shelves and then leaned back in a relaxed posture. "This place isn't about love, Rhea, it's about power. The men that come here want to feel the thrill of decision. Every man is cursed with a terrible burden. It says, 'I want to put my penis in her.' Then there is a terrible surge of lust that he needs to beat back and control. This place is a refuge. Men can loose their lust and we get to control them while it's happening. They pay us for this service and life goes on." "So, this is a game to you?" Rhea asked, and Kenna nodded. "It is one of the great games. Once you learn the rules and the techniques, you will discover pleasures you did not know existed. Being desired ... controlling a man's lust and directing his need ... it is a thrill like few others. You've been in love. Do you remember the lust in his eyes? Do you remember ... the power?" "It's not the same," Rhea said as she shook her head. "You're right," Kenna admitted. "It's not the same. But you may still enjoy it." "I may?" "Yes, you may." Kenna's smile faded and her voice turned cold once more. "Or, you can choose to hate it and feel nothing but contempt for the men who come into this place. That choice is your own, but I recommend you find the good and cling to it. Otherwise you will be miserable." Quiet contemplation was allowed to fill the room as Rhea focused on the concept. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "It really goes against everything I've been taught." "Yes, I know," Kenna said with a nod. "But I doubt you'll be stuck servicing commoners." "What do you mean?" Rhea asked. "Your price was too high," Kenna told her. "Madam Bellisa has a plan for you." "What kind of a plan?" "An expensive plan." The tutor considered something for a moment and then shrugged. "Whatever she has planned, you're going to need to understand the fine lines between pleasure and pain. We'll begin with your stance and then you'll learn to control your face. Once you've mastered that we'll move to some whip-work." "You're ... going to teach me to use a whip?" Rhea asked with a smirk. "Among other things," Kenna told her. Rhea jumped when the tall woman put her hand on her shoulder and the icy gaze held her firm. "You are safe here, Rhea. I will not harm you and I will stop the moment you tell me to. My job is to inflict pleasure, but I cannot do so without your consent. If you say the safe word then I will stop. Do you understand me?" Rhea nodded numbly and then Kenna stepped back and held up her whip. "The safe word ... is leather." She cracked the whip and Rhea's heart leapt. "Say it." "L-leather," Rhea managed as her voice quivered. "Good. Now, let us begin."